Domestic variations
by miskatonic
Summary: [Castle in the Air] Domestic life often requires adjustments.
1. Managing the complications

**Managing the Complications**

**Disclaimer:** _Castle in the Air_ (1990), sequel to _Howl's Moving Castle_, was written by Diana Wynne Jones.  
**Note:** Written for Trismigestus's LJ meme. The first line is hers.

* * *

There's a book of fairy tales on the floor next to where she keeps his basket. Sometimes she reads to him from it, when she's not complaining to the fireplace or pouring packets of hair powder down the sink. 

"Once upon a time," they all start. "And they lived happily ever after," they all end. "These are not necessarily a guide for living, mind you," Momma tells him. "For I was the eldest of three, you know, yet I defeated a horrible wizard."

He's only the eldest of one. Momma is right because they all seem to be living happily ever after in spite of that.

"It's simply a matter of managing the complications," Momma says. She lifts him by the scruff of his neck, and he wiggles a bit on principle. "Behave, you," she tsks. Then she folds him under arm and strokes his belly, and tickles his nose with his tail.

He does love to have his belly rubbed, but a fascinating bit of string is now dangling just before his eyes. He attends to it promptly.

"Stop teasing your son!" Momma says, annoyed.

"But he likes it," Poppa says. "There." The string bounces a bit more, and he bats at it. He can never seem to catch it though.

"Be that as it may," Momma huffs, "it's not, oh, proper. I swear, you're more of a child than he is."

"He's not a child at all," Poppa says.

"And I've asked you before to take it off him. He's begun to explore. Why, I found him on my oddments shelf just yesterday. It's not safe, I tell you."

"I have endeavoured, successfully I might add, to restore him," Poppa says stiffly. "But he doesn't appear to be interested in anyone else's opinion on the matter and pops right back." And Poppa adds, "In this respect, he takes after his mother."

"Oh?" Momma asks sweetly. "Whatever do you mean?"

His hip itches a little, so he licks it.

"Look you, he washes himself!" Poppa says very quickly. "Now there's a time saver, right?" Poppa then says, "I can't say that I blame him myself. Who'd want to be a smelly, squalling, crawling brat? And bald! I ask you."

"Bald," Momma repeats in a thoughtful way. "That would merit the Royal Wizard's attention?"

"Er. Of course, I only meant it in a manner of speaking." Poppa seems very pale. But it might only be because his hair is dark green. Poppa dangles the string again.

But, suddenly, he is very tired and has to yawn. "Oh, Howl, do stop," Momma sighs. "It's time for his nap."

"Sophie, he does little else," Poppa complains.

"Well, that only stands to reason, doesn't it?" Momma points out.

And Momma tucks Morgan back into his basket.

* * *

_(1 of 3)_  



	2. Simple pleasures

**Simple Pleasures**

**Disclaimer:** _Castle in the Air_ (1990), sequel to _Howl's Moving Castle_, was written by Diana Wynne Jones.  
**Note:** Written for Trismigestus's LJ meme. The first line is hers. (She's very inspiring.)

* * *

Sometimes, on the rare occasions when he slows down long enough to have time to sit and think about it, he's overwhelmed by how lucky he was. For Dalzel's two ravishing, rotund rewards have never failed to find him pleasant new diversions.

In just this fashion, he now looks up from his book to see them both standing before him, shimmering seductively in their clinging clouds of pink and yellow gauze, both wringing their plumb hands in a most delightful distress.

As he sets his reading aside, he stretches and yawns, flexing his golden wings, unfolding his claws, revealing to them his not inconsiderable fangs.

He preens as both sigh in appreciation.

But a bridegroom's duty calls. "Tell me, o stolen treasures of Zanzib," he says sternly, "what it is that troubles your thoughts?"

"O most fearsome of fiends, Dalzel," wails his bride in pink, "most vile among villains."

"O most dreadful of djinns, Dalzel," shrieks his bride in yellow, "most debauched among devils."

"O unparalleled purloined pulchritude, reveal to me the source of this woe that besets you," he says, fascinated eyes fixed upon the mobile mounds of flesh so intriguingly displayed with their every wild gesture.

"An evil affliction is upon us," sobs his bride in pink, "a clamour and a clashing!"

"For indeed, the fluctuations of the flow do imperil our purity!" weeps his bride in yellow.

"Er. You don't mean me, do you?" he inquires.

"The drains, o terror in the night," says the pink, "they've stopped."

"The pipes, o perfidious one," says the yellow, "they're knocking rather."

He considers this problem, then nods. "You were right to come to me, my twin full moons of manorial maintenance."

As he tucks his flowing, golden locks into a hasty ponytail, he notes with satisfaction that both his well-fed gazelles are agape. As he hooks up his tool belt in his talons and hefts it over his shoulder, taking care to avoid his glittering wings, he is pleased to hear both gasp.

"Oh my. Pale and thin yet rippling," sighs the pink, "so _manly_."

"Oh, and the _tools_," agrees the yellow, "handymen are dead sexy."

Dalzel basks in the glow of their admiration for a few moments, then prods both with his toilet plunger. As his pastel prizes thunder down the marble corridors in a shrill, giggling flurry of veils, he remembers to tug down his trousers a little farther on the back of his hips.

Truly, he thinks, observing the jiggling overabundance before him, no djinn's deserted isle of exile could be as blessed as his own.

* * *


	3. Affairs of state

**Affairs of State**

**Disclaimer:** _Castle in the Air_ (1990), sequel to _Howl's Moving Castle_, was written by Diana Wynne Jones.

* * *

Certain varieties of experience are bound to have lasting repercussions. Justin considered himself to be something of an authority on that matter, after having spent considerable time living in bodies other than his own. A shift of perspective, a change of tastes, these would not be in the least unusual, Justin firmly believed -- nothing out of the ordinary. 

Nevertheless, as always, he would ask, "You're quite certain no one will be barging in?"

As always, she would reply, "Everyone is well aware that I'm not to be disturbed for Friday tea."

All the same, he invariably was relieved when she bolted the door for good measure. Thereafter, it was merely a matter of certain exchanges and of selecting the proper and most attractive accessories.

As always, he would complain, "This padding is rather awkward, I find."

As always, she would reply, "Oh, do stop dithering. As I recall, you were glad enough for it the first time."

He would allow her point. She in turn would allow him to reaffix the Strangian Campaign medals to his tunic. After all, he was quite fond of their colours; he'd selected them himself before leading the army of Ingary's invasion.

As always, she would study the effect, dust off her hands, and say, "Well then, I believe we're ready. Shall we?"

As always, he would incline his head gracefully in agreement, taking care not to upset the tiara.

The Conqueror of Strangia then would click heels smartly and bow, before offering an arm. The Jharine of Jham would accept this escort to the nearby divan. The Prince would set aside the sword and take opposite place for their afternoon tea.

As always, the Jharine of Jham would pause in his pouring to murmur, "I say, you look quite fetching in my kit."

As always, the Prince of Ingary would say heartily, "And you look far lovelier in the full rig than I ever did."

The Jharine would blush prettily before snapping open his fan. The Prince would place a booted ankle casually upon her knee and settle back, openly admiring the fine view.

And, as always, Justin would congratulate himself once again for having captured Beatrice, the most practical of princesses.


End file.
